


Carry On Countdown 2017

by black_tea_blue_pens



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), F/F, F/M, M/M, Suicide, swears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-06 17:03:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 18,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12822066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_tea_blue_pens/pseuds/black_tea_blue_pens
Summary: 30 short fics updated daily from November 25 until December 24, for the second anniversary of Carry On Countdown, organized by @carryon-countdown on tumblr





	1. Day 1: At Watford

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AoiHerondale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AoiHerondale/gifts).



At the age of eleven, any kid with the slightest curiosity about books is hoping from the depths of their heart for the Hogwarts letter to arrive. I was not an exception. Saying that I spent my eleventh birthday sitting in front of the postbox might be exaggerating, mainly because it was a school day, but I spent it daydreaming about the thousand ways the letter would arrive at home. I had more reasons than a normal child for this to happen, since some weird, magic-ish stuff happened sometimes around me. My parents never took them seriously, thinking of them as the fantasies of a child.

The letter did not arrive. Of course I was a little disappointed, although I should have expected it. But two days later, something else arrived instead. Or should I say, someone else. When the doorbell rang, I ran to open it, in an effort to be faster than my sibling, only to find a Robin Hood-like man with a funny moustache staring at me.

“Esther?” I did not even ask myself why he knew my name. I was too busy remembering my mother’s lectures about not pointing or laughing at people.

“Yes, that’s me”

Let me explain something: I never met my grandfather on mom’s side. He was never married to my grandmother, I think, which by the time was big deal. The official story was that he left to join a cult. Correction: He left to go back to the cult he was part of. I still wonder why anyone at the age of eleven should know something like that, but the thing is I knew. Maybe making questions non-stop had helped. And maybe me doing spectacular things when no one was looking (I knew it was magic, but no one believed me) made me too similar to him.

So, according to Robin Hood (“you shall call me Mage” he said) my grandfather was a magician. “Like Harry Potter” I had obviously said. He did not seem to know what I was talking about. The thing is, for some reason he wanted me to go to the school he had. It was not Hogwarts. He called it Watford. It did make sense to me at that moment. My parents might have done the inscription, or maybe not, since everything seemed pretty much done. The point is, the first of September I was picked by a taxi that brought me to Watford. No train, no secret platform… Just a yellow taxi and a driver who loved country music a little too much.

Things changed when the taxi arrived at the gate of the school. “ _ Magic separates us from the world; let nothing separate us from each other _ ”. Now that was more Hogwarts-looking. The Taxi driver didn’t even try to open the door. He handled me the luggage and left without a word. I looked for a doorbell, an entry phone or something. Eventually, I pushed the gates and they opened. I walked through the path that lead to what seemed like an ancient castle, or at least tried. I had not walked a few steps when the grass caught fire. I remember it with an unusual clarity: suddenly, what looked like a dragon with the head of a lion appeared in front of me, and a boy ran out of the forest immediately after that, with a sword in his hand, trying to catch the thing’s attention. He glared at me. Then a red-haired girl, who appeared from nowhere and stood next to me, observing the fight. As if it were normal to see a boy fighting a dragon.

“Penny! I’ll explode!” The boy ran towards us, and I felt something moving inside of me. As if every cell of my body were vibrating… Well, it is not exactly that but I could not describe it. It was magic. And I fell, with the girl named Penny and the boy on top of me, and suddenly everything was bright and then… Nothing. The dragon was dead, the sword had disappeared and the red-haired girl was telling the boy how he should have gone for the stomach rather than the neck as if she were talking about a lab dissection.

“What was that?” When I said that, the boy looked at me. He looked concerned.

“That was a chimera” he said.

“I heard that. It’s not in Harry Potter”.

“In what?” Said Penny.

“No one here has watched Harry Potter” the boy said. “And my name is Simon”.

I think that was the moment when I was added to the long list of Watford students who were in love with Simon. He grabbed my luggage.

“You are a new student here, right? Sorry for that. I promise this is usually more peaceful”.

“Anyways, Simon, how did this happen?”

“It was Baz. Baz brought me here. He wanted to feed me to the chimera”.

“Who’s Baz? I’m Esther, by the way”.

“Baz is an evil vampire who wants to kill me”.

Penny interrupted him. “He is not a vampire, or at least we have no proof of that”.

“Penny, we should watch Harry Potter. Let’s binge watch it next time”.

“Don’t change the topic! Why would Baz ever try to turn you into chimera food? He’s more into trying to push you downstairs”.

“Because he’s evil. And because the stairs didn’t work”.

The next big disappointment came with the dorm sorting. Sure, all of the first years were there, but no great hall. No sorting hat. Just some kind of giant cup (Simon had called it “the crucible”) and the Robin Hood guy (the Mage) spelling something. And suddenly all of us were moving through the courtyard until we were sorted on pairings. The girl next to me did not look as lost as me, as we went to our dorm (both of us knew which one it was, I guessed it was part of the spell) and I tried to start small talk. She was from an ancient family of mages, she said. So she knew what was happening.

During dinner, Simon came to visit me. Asked how I was. I was stupid enough to ask him if there were houses or passwords or common rooms, and he smiled and said no. “But in case you care, I was sorted as Hufflepuff in the test”. “I’m Ravenclaw” I said. “Oh” he added “and we cannot cast silent spells”. “At least we use wands?” I said. The Mage had given me one. He had said it was my grandfather’s. “Some of us”. He said goodbye, and went back to the table Penny was at, along with a blond, blue eyed girl who looked too beautiful for a human. I asked my roommate if she was a fairy or something, but she laughed and pointed at another student, with sharp ears and eyes of an impossible color. “That girl is half a fairy. Agatha Wellbelove is human”.

I found out that Simon Snow was a legend, and every first year (but me) knew him. I also found out that even half-bloods like me knew about him, and I was the only one who did not know a thing about the World of Mages. Simon was supposed to save us all from something (or someone) who was draining the magic from some locations. Agatha was his girlfriend. Penny was always with him. And Baz (Tyrannus Basilton Grim-Pitch), the handsome gloomy boy at the other side of the room, was his arch-enemy. They were all fifth years and the Mage was Simon’s father. So there  _ was _ a Harry Potter in this world. And a Hermione. And there was even a Draco Malfoy.

That night, when I went to sleep, I decided that although Watford was not Hogwarts, maybe it could be fun too.


	2. Day 2: Social Media

When a person and their boyfriend save the world of mages together, fight dragons together, negotiate with vampires together and defeat a crazy and way too powerful magician together, there is a bunch of things that are assumed. One of them is that you are above unnecessary drama: the kind of drama that no-magic people like so much, and that has made actresses like Jennifer Aniston rich.

Well, I am not. I am annoyed and maybe a little angry because of a goddamn Instagram picture, and I know (one part of me knows, at least) that there is a logic behind it. That it is not possible that Simon Snow is hugging a girl. Not this way.

He hugs a lot of people all the time, that’s something he has been doing ever since we were at Watford. He used to hug Agatha, before, during and after their relationship, but also Penny and all of his friends at the school; which means half the population of Watford has been hugged by Simon Snow. He will just mindlessly put his arms around anyone he likes, with that big smile of his, and fill his social media with pictures of people I haven’t even heard of, or maybe I have, but I cannot keep track of them. Sometimes I think Penny is right. He has too many friends. I generally do not mind; it is not like I am an especially jealous person and taking into account that I have been silently wishing he would just not hate me for three eternal years, I am happy.

This picture is different. In the first place, he is serious. Simon is never serious on his social media; you can go through his more than 200 instagram pictures and he is always smiling. I’m not sure how he does it, but it impresses me: his spirits are too good. But back to this picture, he looks really handsome in this one as well: I can see his effort to comb his hair and his clothes are not as messy and awfully combined as usual, which is nice to be honest. But not like this. Not while hugging this girl. Not without some stupid filter (he loves stupid filters, no matter how many times I tell him they are not that funny). He looks worried, somehow, and the hug is different than usual. More… Emotional.

The moment I arrive at Simon and Penny’s apartment, the issue has become a giant ball that manages to occupy most of my brain. Penny is not home. She is never home; she prefers to study in the library. I think she got used to it at Watford.

“Simon, how are you?” He is in the kitchen, going through some papers. I think they are from some of his courses.

“Uhm? Fine”.

I should ask him. I need to ask him. Nothing good is going to come from letting the ball keep growing.

“Simon, there is…” Let me be selfish. Just this time. “There’s this girl on your last Instagram picture. Do I know her?” “Which one?” He asks, standing up. “The one you are hugging”. “I hug everyone all the time. You are always complaining about it”. I look for the pic on my phone, and show him.

His reaction is confusing. He looks at it, and then smiles in a kind of sad way, which only makes me even less secure in all of this.

“She’s a friend from the university” he says. “She transferred to the US to study a week ago or so… Yeah, that’s why. I didn’t think you would misunderstand it”.

I feel stupid now. I knew there was an explanation, and this is why I did not want to ask.

“Are you jealous?” His smile has turned into a smirk.

“Listen, Snow, I don’t…”

“No need to be so aggressive. I was just asking”.

He’s right. I called him Snow. “Sorry. Do you miss her?”

“She was nice. We didn’t meet a lot out of class, but I had fun with her”.

I should comfort him, but this whole situation is awkward, and I still feel ashamed. I end up hugging him, and he hugs me back.

“I’m not angry” he says.

“That’s a relief”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sora here!!
> 
> This one was kind of hard to write, but it turned out well. Please comment what you think about it!!


	3. Day 3: Time travel

“And what did you say that you were doing?” “I was watching a film with my sister”.

“It will not work”.

“Trust me. Please. I thought you were the bold one”.

“Not when we are risking getting stuck in the space-time. We don’t even know if we will move back or forth”.

“We will go back, I guess. Just a few days. I don’t think I have enough power for more than that. You’d know if you had watched the film”.

Simon sighs. I know he is scared. I am, too. But I am so sure this will work… We even came to the forest of Watford in the middle of an August day, high temperatures included, to have more magic, and to make it work.

“Fine, let’s do it” he says. I immediately take out my wand. His eyes shine, as every single time I do so, no matter how many years pass. I stroke his hand, close my eyes and take a deep breath.

“ **Back to the future** ” I spell. I feel nothing but a sudden change of temperature and when I open my eyes again, Simon is still next to me, and we are still in the forest.

“Did it work?” He asks. It’s dusk here. Maybe we moved back a few hours.

“I am not sure”.

We walk to the school. There are lights in the garden. I open the door for Simon and he goes in. As we get near, I realise the spell has worked.

“The ceremony is in September right?” He asks. The garden of the school is full of children, all around the crucible, moving toward their new roommate. The scene brings me memories, and it is somehow warm, and familiar.

I nod. “Looks like we moved back a few months”

As we get near them, I feel like something is wrong. This is all way too similar to the way it was when we were in their place, including the half-fairy girl crying and a fifth year student helping her.

I see the mage and my theory is confirmed.

I grab Simon’s hand, and push him behind a tree.

“We came several years back”.

We both look at the garden from behind a tree. On the left side, a little apart from everyone else, there is a blond boy, way too thin for his age, and looking like he does not really know what is really happening. He walks slowly, knowing where but not why, as he nervously plays with a red ball in his hand. A black-haired kid walks towards him. He looks way more confident, maybe a little too much. Walking wide steps. He knows what is happening, and he knows why. When both kids are in front of each other, the blond one smiles, and offers his hand. I look at Simon, the twenty year old Simon with wings and tail. He is observing the scene, and he looks surprised, pleased and somehow sad. I know what is happening now: the black haired boy will look down on the blond’s gesture and they will both silently go home, the red ball bouncing up and down. But I don’t see it. I just stare at Simon.

“I wish it would have happened any other way”. The two boys go back to the castle and he finally looks at me.

“If it had, maybe we wouldn’t be where we are today” he answers. He pauses, maybe thinking of something, and then hugs me with both arms and wings, as he uses to. “Should we go back?”

I am about to agree but then I remember something: “No” I say. “Wait a little”

We stay still for no more than five minutes, and then it happens. The red ball comes out, flying through our room’s window, into the gardens. I take out my wand. “ **Come out, come out, wherever you are** ”. It comes rolling to my feet and I take it.

“So that’s why I never found it” he says. I nod. He holds my hand again, and I spell: “ **As you were** ”.

It is daytime again, and the gardens of Watford are empty. As I drive back home, Simon holds my hand silently.

“Let’s keep this a secret”.

“Yeah”.


	4. Day 4: rainy days

The sound of rain can be heard. It falls against the window and against the forest. A rain that will leave the smell of wet and nature when it leaves. A relaxing sound, heavy, constant, cold and comfortable. A sound that takes away the wish to go outside, bringing a need for hot chocolate and blankets.

The sound of wind comes together with it. Softer, making the shutters creak and the forest rustle, playing the backup voice for the rain and making the oldest trees shake in fear.

The sound of thunder follows an occasional lightning, making the sky tremble, and conquering the rain and the winter for an instant, just to disappear right after, as fast as it came.

The sound of kids goes through the door, muffled screams and steps; pieces of idle conversations between people with no worries beyond their next exam.

The sound of bed sheets can hardly be heard under the rain and the wind, every time the blond, freckled boy moves in his restless sleep.

The sound of his breath is loud, irregular, distressing, entering and leaving his chest through an open mouth, along with an occasional soft snore. 

The sound of a pen scratching the paper comes from the table. The other boy, tall, black-haired, unnaturally pale, is writing. That sound occasionally stops, when the sleeping boy becomes louder. He turns to look at the bed for a few seconds, and then goes back to his essay, with no courage to wake him up.

The sound of steps, running through the corridor, disrupting the silence as the door bangs open and the girl with purple hair announces: “Simon, time for dinner!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sora here!
> 
> This is one of the shortest, and it is the most simmilar thing to poetry I've ever written. But I like the result a lot. Please tell me what you think about it!


	5. Day 5

**AGATHA:**

I used to dream of Simon way too often. At first it was just daydreaming. He was cool, nice to everyone, handsome and the hero of the world of mages. I daydreamed of him often, thinking how great it would be to be his girlfriend, maybe idealizing him in my head, until we began going out.

Then he started appearing in my night dreams: they were dreams that did not differ from reality. He just stayed with me; it was a nice, calming, warm feeling; the same one I had when I was with him in real life.

Sometimes, he would go out and fight; always with Penny. I had an instinct to stay away from danger, so it was always her who would leave with him and come back, both burnt, wounded, tired and strangely satisfied. I could not sleep during those times, and when he came back, I had nightmares. Nightmares where he stayed with me, but the calm feeling was not there; there was only blood, darkness, and way more wounds than he could possibly endure.

Then we broke up, and I still dreamed of him. I was still worried when he left along with Penny, and sometimes with Baz, and I still felt calm when I was with him, but since long before, my feelings had become softer.

When I moved to California, the feeling changed: he was not beside me, but in front of me, and there was longing. Sometimes Penny was with us as well, and I woke up wanting to go back to England. To join them. To stand next to them as well.

The first time I visited England, I stayed at my parents’, but I went to visit the apartment Simon and Penny were sharing. When I followed Penny inside, Baz was on the couch, in an attitude that made it seem as if he lived there as well. He was sitting next to Simon, and they were holding hands. A few days later, I fell asleep in the plane flight to America. Baz stayed in front of me, and he was smiling. I was smiling as well, and Simon was next to me. He walked towards Baz, and held his hand, the same tender way he had at his apartment. I turned around, and walked away, still smiling.

I never dreamed of him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sora here!  
> I really really wanted to write about Agatha. Hopefully this one won't be the only day I write about her, because I want to develop her. Please comment what you think about this!!


	6. Day 6: Angst

**SIMON**

Somehow, I am fighting a dragon again. I haven’t done this ever since I was eleven, and I would rather have gone another seven years without repeating the experience.

I cast a spell to get his attention, but I overdo it, as always.

“Your attention spell worked on everyone!” Penny says. “They’re all coming out to watch!  **There’s nothing to see here!** ” she shouts at the gates. “ **As you were!** ” 

I glance back and see kids standing on the drawbridge and running to the edge of the ramparts. The dragon is diving again, and I decide to run at it. A ribbon of fire shoots over my head. I drop at the last moment and roll away —its teeth scrape at the ground beside me.

It pulls up, snorting in what I think is frustration, then lunges towards me, snapping its jaws. I swing my sword at its neck, and the blade catches and sticks. The dragon heaves up again, and I go with it, holding onto my sword, and trying to use the momentum to swing onto the beast’s head. I don’t reach it. I keep hanging while the dragon flies higher, over the towers of the castle. There is nothing under my feet.

The dragon turns its head and opens his mouth. I swing to get away but it’s faster than me, and suddenly everything is burning and I am falling down.

 

**BAZ**

Simon is falling in a ball of fire, followed by the dragon. I drown in panic. If he falls from that height, while being burned alive, there is no way he will survive, not even with his powers. There must be a spell; there ought to be a way of helping him. Penny next to me, screams: “ **You’re in deep water!** ” and then she passes out. The spell works, but it is too strong, and he’s too far away, so she pushed herself too hard. Miss Possibelf is still trying to control all the first years, and some other teacher is spelling the dragon away. I still can’t find the right spell. Not a single idea. I’m blocked.

Simon hits the floor in a wet mess of burns and clothes, and as I run towards him, I scream: “ **How does a moment last forever?** ” But it’s too late, because Simon is burned, wounded and lying on the floor, in a position that leaves no doubt. I walk towards him, search for his pulse, his breath, something. Anything telling me that he’s alive.

There is nothing.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM!?” As I turn around, Agatha’s fist clashes with my jaw.

“I did nothing”.

“You killed him!” I grab her by the wrists.

“I did nothing! I didn’t kill him, I…”  _ I didn’t help him either. _

“Let him go, it wasn’t his fault”. Bunce is still lying on the floor, but she’s awake. “Check if he’s alive”.

“He’s not” I say. “I’m sorry, I... The spell. I didn’t…”

I release Agatha and go back to the castle, to the room in the tower, lie on the bed. On Simon’s bed. And there’s this numbness around me, as if the last few hours had not happened. As if I were waiting for Simon to appear, with his uniform burnt and teared, covered by blood, most of it not even his; eyes sparkling with adrenaline and a tired smile. “I fought a dragon”, and I would fake indifference, try to hide the relief inside me. I wait for him, because he’s Simon Snow, and he’s the most powerful magician in the world, and no one can defeat him. Not even me. Not even a dragon.

At some point, I fall asleep.

Time passes, I guess. A funeral is held. I go to class, study, play football. My dad, Fiona, and even Daphne send me letters. They are proud. The holes that the Humdrum originated have disappeared along with Simon’s presence, and the Mage, useless without him, has been outpowered by my parents, the Bunce family and I think some more. The raids into houses of the Ancient Families have stopped, and that’s a good thing. It’s supposed to be a good thing, something to be happy about; the World of Mages has finally reached peace.

And yet this emptiness; and yet this feeling that everything is over, that nothing matters anymore. There’s this idea, fixed on my mind. Simon Snow is dead. Simon Snow is dead. Simon Snow is dead, and I could have saved him. The spell was easy, the kind of spell we learn in third grade, and it doesn’t take much energy, but still I couldn’t cast it. Because I couldn’t think of it on time. Because I’m a failure as a mage, as a roommate and as a person.

Simon Snow and I were supposed to fight until death. I was supposed to be unrequitedly, hopelessly in love with him until the day he would finally kill me. He was supposed to defeat the Humdrum, be the hero of the World of Mages.

He was supposed not to die by accident. 

 

I’m taking notes mechanically in History class when the idea comes. Ever since then, I’ve been going through my life and just waiting for something to happen. For Simon to come back. For me to go with him. I don’t care that he hated me. I don’t care that I won. I don’t care that the long awaited peace has come to the World of Mages.

“Vampires are eternal, but not immortal”. I look at the teacher. She moves over to the next topic, after leaving that sentence in the air, as an answer to some stupid question by another classmate, I guess. I don’t know, and I honestly don’t care. “Vampires are eternal, but not immortal”. Will she ever know she saved me? “Not immortal”. I found an end to this.

_ Vampires can die. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sora here!
> 
> Last year AoiHerondale and I killed Baz. So this year is Simon's moment. I really hope you like this, and please leave a comment!


	7. Day 7: Favorite trope

Agatha has decided it would be a good idea to play spin the bottle, or Truth or Dare, or a mix between both. And Baz is here. I think that’s because Gareth insisted so much that we should be an even number of people, although I still can’t think of how will that affect the game. Maybe it was just an excuse to get him involved. What amazes me is the fact that he has accepted.

There are chips, coke (Penny didn’t use her mysterious power to bring the kind of drinks Rhys asked for) and some candies, and we are all sitting on my bed and Baz’s. There are also a bunch of cherry scones, but I’ll make sure those don’t last long.

The game starts, the bottle spins, and the first one to be pointed at is Penny.

Gareth asks her some random, sex-related question that she answers without major problems. She spins the bottle for a second time, and this time it lands pointing at Baz.

“Truth or Dare?” Penny asks.

“Dare” he answers. Of course. He’s not risking being asked if he’s a vampire or not. Although he could lie, probably, but that would make the game pointless. I’m not sure about how much Baz cares about the point of the game.

“Kiss Simon”.

Baz looks at Penny. It’s a heavy, long glare that I don’t get to decypher.

“Maybe you should take out some piece of clothing?”

Baz glares at me, and this time it’s an “I am going to kill you” kind of glare.

“I’ll do it” he says. What? Did I hear what I think I’ve heard?

Baz stands up, and walks across the room until he’s in front of me. I stand up.

“Are you sure about it? I don’t think your shoes…”

“Shut up, Snow. Don’t make it even more revolting”. He leans forward and I wonder if this way I can guess whether he has fangs. His lips press against mine then, and they are cold. Inhumanly cold, which shouldn’t happen because Penny spelled the room warm a few hours ago (it works better than electric heaters). Maybe it is the surprise, maybe the curiosity, but I lengthen the kiss way more than I am expected to, and the room is silent but I can only think about how cold he is.

BAZ

Simon parts, leaving me with a feeling of longing. It turned out better than expected; I didn’t go crazy, I didn’t bite him. I didn’t declare my undying love for him. This is probably the most perfect kiss I will ever have with him. Maybe the only one. But Simon’s lips were soft and warm and gentle, and I found myself wanting the kiss to last forever. Forgetting about the other four people in the room. Letting all the feelings I’ve been trying to repress spring up, all of a sudden.

“Baz” his voice snaps me out of my fantasies. “Are you alright?” He touches my forehead with the back of his hand, but I push it away.

“Enough touching. Who’s next?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORA HERE!
> 
> I really really wanted, at some point of my life, to write this kind of scene, so there you are. Hope you like it!! (Oh, and this is an AU where Agatha doesn't go out with Simon)


	8. Day 8: Harry Potter AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today I posted a little later than usual because I had a slightly messy day (I didn’t think of queueing it on time), but here you are! It’s an AU where Harry Potter is a teacher.

Simon knocks the door, and after hearing a muffled “come in”, opens the door.

“Mr. Potter…”

“You requested tutoring?”

“Yes… Thank you for your time”.

“Not a problem. Please, sit down”. Simon walks into the room, grabs a chair and sits down quietly in front of the teacher’s chair. Harry leaves aside the exams he’s correcting and looks at Simon. “I was surprised about you reaching for me. I haven’t taught you since… Third year?”

Simon’s nervous. He’s fidgeting with his wand.

“Yes, I wanted to ask you… Penny told me you defeated Voldemort. And she told me who Voldemort was, and I didn’t know about it because I grew up around muggles…”

“I grew up with muggles as well. It’s normal not knowing who Voldemort was”.

Hearing that, Simon smiles a little and looks at the teacher. He looks calmer now.

“I also heard you had to fight through all of your school years… Penny told me about the teachers. She told me about Quirrell, and the Chamber, and everything else”.

“That’s all true, although truth be told, at that moment it didn’t sound so impressive”.

“Well, I’ve fought some dragons, and some chimeras, and there was even a dementor who came as well, and I survived… Although they weren’t as big a deal as an Evil Lord, I guess? And the chimera wasn’t even…” Simon stops talking. It doesn’t seem right to point at Basilton, that Ravenclaw who seems to think turning Simon’s life into a hell is the funniest thing he could do with his time. He doesn’t have real proof, as Penny has told him infinite times.

“Please don’t underestimate yourself, the result is never good. You’ve gone through more than you should at your age”.

Simon nods, and keeps going:

“The thing is everyone expects me to defeat the Humdrum. And it’s not that I don’t want to. It’s not that I want to, either; it’s what I have to do, so it’s fine, but… But what if I fail? Will the Magic World die if I do? And if I do it right? I don’t want to be historical. I don’t want to become famous. I want to… God, I don’t even know what I want.”

Harry stands up. He walks to the other part of the wall, where there’s a framed Magic picture. He gives it to Simon and sits back.

A ginger, freckled, young woman is waving, dressed in a professional quidditch equipment.

“Do you know who she is?” He asks.

“She’s a quidditch player. Ginny, is her name? She plays in the Holyhead Harpies. She’s famous”.

“She’s my wife. People often know more about her than about me. You are at a point where it might seem now like the Humdrum is going to take over your life, that you have no other reason to live than saving the world of magic, and there’s nothing behind. I can relate to that sensation, but… It will not last forever. You have friends who support you; I always see you around that Slytherin… Miss Bunce? Let her help you. You will manage it. It won’t be easy, and there is certainly a risk, but eventually everything will be over, and then you will have the time to think seriously about the future. Don’t hurry. There is no need”.

“Thank you. But what if… I don’t reach? What if I don’t do enough and someone is wounded because of me? And what if something worse happens? What if someone dies because I wasn’t there?”.

“You’re doing your best. If you keep fighting, trying to do what you must, then you shouldn’t feel remorse. It’s not about being everywhere, but about giving everything you have wherever you are, but…” Harry pauses. The room is silent for a moment, and Simon is thinking about what he has just heard. Then Harry keeps going. “Please don’t let your obligations as ‘The Chosen One’ or ‘The Child Who Lived’ or any other title people want to assign you control the people you like, your school life and your peaceful moments”.

“I won’t”.

Harry stands up, and so does Simon. They walk to the door together.

“Thank you again, Mr. Potter”.

“You’re welcome, and please feel free to visit anytime”.

“Thank you, I will”.

Simon leaves the room and Harry stays looking at the student until he turns and disappears. There is only one question in his head. “When will all of this be over?”


	9. Day 9: flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is about Hanazaki disease, which is an imaginary illness where when the person falls in love, a plant (generally sakura) grows in their lungs, making them spit flowers and blood. The only way to cure it is either removing it with surgery, which will make them lose their capabilities to feel, or being loved back. If neither of them happen, the person eventually dies.

The first symptom came during my third year. By that time, I hated Simon Snow with everything I had, and I think he hated me as well. It was a dark, autumn night, and Snow was asleep, snoring slightly. I was observing him. I began coughing and some blood came from my mouth. I wondered if I had bit myself with the fangs, but that had never happened before and the fangs were retracted anyways. I had never been sick since becoming a vampire, but I thought of it as an isolated incident and forgot about it.

 

During fourth year, something similar happened three more times. The first time, it was in the middle of class, while Bunce was asking some advanced questions and Snow was concentrated in the teacher’s answers, his eyebrows frown. I suddenly started coughing and spat some blood in my hand. I ran to the toilet, but the attack was short and I could go back to class.

The second one was in our room, and Snow was walking around shirtless. This time I was full from hunting the night before and it was an awful red mess. The blood would not stop coming out, sometimes thicker, as if there was something else, and at some point I began crying.

The third time I had no time to get to the toilet. We were in the middle of a football practice and Snow, Wellbelove and Bunce were at the grandstands, looking at us. We made a pause, I looked at them. Wellbelove was kissing Snow. This time it was more violent than ever, and I ended up leaning against a tree. Blood and tears kept coming out, and something else: there were blue petals mixed with the blood.

 

I spent my fifth year wishing Snow would just kill me. The strange cough attacks became more usual and I became more tired. By the end of the year, they happened on a weekly basis. It became harder to stand it. Sometimes they were full flowers: wrinkled, torn forget-me-nots. Some of them were complete, maybe even beautiful. But I started hating the colors blue and red together. They joined when I became a crying, bloody mess, and although they were probably beautiful, I wanted to shout and cry and make it stop, but it would not.

I discovered the cause, as well: I had fallen in love with Snow. An unrequited, fruitless love that would most likely bring my end, lungs filled with flowers too deep to be removed.

 

At some point during our sixth year, it became unrelated to Snow: Flowers would periodically fall from my mouth, more often every time and I could do nothing to avoid it, so I became more cruel than ever with him, trying to endure something I could not deal with; trying to stay away from him.

 

When the numpties captured me, it became easier to deal with it. I did not need to move, I did not need to live. I only had to stay still and let it sprout. And although it was a torture and I was hungry, bored, tired, and alone with my thoughts, it was the first time when I did not have to worry about leaving blue flowers and blood stains on the rug.

 

I have been getting worse these last months. It has become a daily problem ever since Snow promised to help me find out what happened to my mother and I accepted because I am too weak with everything related to him. I guess by now I should be used to it, but I am not. The closer we become, the more obvious it is that my love is, and will forever be, unrequited. And it is going to finish me, if Snow does not kill me before. I am not sure if he knows about all of this, anyways: I have tried to hide it, of course. But my coughing and choking from the toilet are not that easy to ignore. He used to ask me if I was all right. The tenth time I told him to piss off, he stopped asking.

 

Right now we are in the same car. I am driving. We have just been trying to negotiate with Nicodemus and there are too many things in my head to deal with blood and flowers right now. I think I am crying right now and I know Snow is worried.

We are already crossing the forest to my house when it comes again: the feeling of choking, being unable to breathe as if something were imprisoning my lungs. Leaves, petals and branches. I stop the car and leave it. I run to the forest. Snow does not follow me at first, but then I hear his voice. He is calling me. I lean forward and there it goes again: the red and the blue all mixed together. Preventing me from breathing. And even then, I am not sure about it being able to kill me because I am a vampire, and vampires do not die. 

I spell fire around me but Snow keeps coming; I tell him to go away, but of course he does not.

“Baz, why… Where did those flowers come from? Baz, please, stop the fire”.

I cough again and more flowers come from my mouth. This one is worse than ever, and Snow’s presence is not helping. I think he is talking but I cannot hear him over the sound of fire and cough and pain.

I open my mouth, and show him my fangs, covered by blood. My blood. 

“I am one of them now”.

“You are not”.

“Haven’t you been trying to prove I’m a monster since we were kids? Crowley, you have…” I start coughing again. He holds my hair back, strokes my back and murmurs something. When it stops, I keep going “you have proof now. Go tell the Mage. I’m a vampire, Snow! And I puke flowers. There you are. Are you happy?”

“You’re not”.

“What?”

“You’ve never ever bitten anyone” he says. I look at him and he’s crying. That triggers a new attack and both of us see the forget-me-not falling open on a puddle of blood and tears.

“Fuck. _ Off _ .”

“No!” Crowley, do I want to stop this now.

“Seriously. Go. This fire is not for you”.

He grabs my wrists and I cannot avoid looking at him.

“That’s right, it can’t be. You always said you’d make sure there was an audience when you finished me off. Come on”.

I cough again and the blood stains Snow’s clothes. The fire is coming closer and I cannot stop the blood. It is as if I could feel the forget-me-not growing inside of me.

“This is what I deserve”. Dying on a fire, surrounded by blood, asphyxiated by a flower Snow has made grow.

He holds my hair again.

“Well, it is not what I deserve”.

“Then go”.

“I won’t” he says. “I’ve never turned my back on you. And I’m not starting now”.

That’s it. I am going to have to spell this imbecile away from me, if the intermittent cough allows me. My last deed will be to save Simon Snow’s life and he will live not knowing I died because of my love for him. My whole family will be ashamed.

I think I might kiss him before I send him flying. If the cough allows it. He shakes his head and he is saying something, and I think I might kiss him. I won’t bite. I won’t hurt him.

And then he kisses me.

For the first time since fourth grade, the flowers’ grip on my heart softens a little. I don’t want to die here, I realize.

##  Ending 1:

I stop the fire with the help of Simon’s magic, and we go back home. Simon kisses me again. I want to ask him, demand an explanation. Maybe explain myself as well, but I am easily distracted.

“You are sick from Hanahaki” he says. We are sitting on my bed, both showered and ready to go to sleep. I nod.

“Who is it?” He looks worried, and a bit hopeful. Allowing myself a confidence I should not have, I roll my eyes.

“You can guess”.

He smiles, and kisses me again. The grip on my lungs becomes softer, which might mean that it is over. That Simon loves me back, and that I will not cough flowers anymore. That I will not die asphyxiated on unrequited love.

I wake up after a full night of sleep. For the first time, there are no violent coughs, no blood. I am home, in my bed. Simon is sleeping next to me, mouth open as always and his face looks so calm... 

 

Simon opens his eyes and looks at me, smiling as stupidly as always.

I start coughing again. Out of habit, I grab the cube I always keep by my bed. There is something pushing to go out. Red blood again, and blue flowers. But also green stems. Simon acts the same as yesterday: holding my hair, rubbing my back, and although there is an entire plant leaving my lungs right now, he makes me feel calm. At some point, brown roots come out as well. I spend half an hour coughing, pushing the whole thing out, and Simon stays with me the whole time.

Then it’s over.

I go to the bathroom and clean myself. When I come out, Simon is still sitting on the bed, looking at me. “I love you” he says. I am cured.

##  Ending 2:

**WARNING: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH**

SIMON

I wake up in absolute darkness. It is morning for sure, since I can hear the people outside, but the blinds in Baz’s room are better than Watford’s, so I stay still, eyes closed. Not moving.

I make a list of things that confuse me: First, Baz suffers Hanahaki. Because of me. Which is important because I have heard it is a mortal disease. Second, Baz is a vampire. I am not sure whether that is confusing or not, since I already knew, and it does not make Baz evil or something. Third, yesterday I kissed Baz to stop his suicide attempt, and it worked. We came back and he was tired and weird. Like dazed. He fell asleep almost immediately. Fourth, I might be in love with Baz. I am not sure about that, and it is the most confusing of them all. At the moment, maybe I should wait and see what happens.

I take a deep breath and get up from bed to raise the blinds. It seems to be one of those unusual winter days when it is cold and there is snow everywhere but the sun is shining. I smile and turn around.

I freeze.

Baz is still on the bed, lying on his side, so close to the edge he might fall any moment, still wearing his pyjamas. His eyes are closed, and I am almost sure that he looks paler than usual, if that’s even possible. He’s holding his chest with one hand and the other one is over his throat. His facial expression is that of unbearable pain. A trail of dry blood falls from his mouth, some of it staining the sheets, but most of it has fallen on the floor, along with some blue flowers. But most of the flowers emerge from his mouth, spreading above his lips, like a bouquet. No. As if they grew straight from him. They probably do; that is what hanahaki is about. He does not breathe, he does not cough. He does not even move.

Sixth. Vampires are not immortal.

He is dead.

Seventh. I killed Baz.

“I’m so sorry, Baz”.


	10. Day 10: Song inspired

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UoM3dd8p6zA -One million roses (Jonghyun)  
> AU where Baz is a rich kid that plays the violin and Simon is a broke uni student who knows how to draw. It is supposed to happen during the end of the XIX Century. About the song, the link is a version by Jonghyun (SHINee). The original one is great as well.

He is playing the violin, windows open; a bad habit that no one dares to call him out for. The sound, a sad melody, escapes to the streets, where some people have gathered under the balcony just to listen to it. Someone asks who it is, and whether they give public concerts. “That’s the son of the most powerful trader in the city, and knowing his father, I don’t think he’d be allowed to play in public” is the answer. The boy, in his late teens or maybe early twenties, keeps playing the violin, unaware of the people who silently listen. Unaware of the room he is in, full of books, partitures and a single painting hung on the wall: a bouquet of white and red roses. He plays silently, dark eyes open, not looking anywhere. His pale face looks sad, just like the song he’s playing. He is thinking of roses, again. It is the thought that comes to him when he plays that piece: the smell of roses and the sound of violin, and a woman singing for a baby in a foreign language. Maybe that’s why he does not like the smell of roses: they remind him of death, of sickness, and of his mother agonizing in a bed surrounded by flowers. 

 

Simon found the perfect spot a year ago. Ever since then, he has sat on the same bench, at the park in front of the mansion, in order to draw. He has drawn flowers: the ones that grow neatly in the park, helped by the care of the gardeners. He has drawn buildings: the big mansion by the park, but also the little houses surrounding it, and the tower of the cathedral, that can be seen behind them. He has also drawn people: fast sketches of people passing by; people who ask him for a caricature or in-depth portraits of people who can pay for them.

The first time Simon heard the violin, the music almost made him cry. He had just arrived at the town: a college student trying to pay a degree through art, and he had fallen in love with a sound. A saturday morning, there were people walking; shopping; everything was calm and pleasant. Then, the sound came from an open window in the mansion he knew nothing about. He had chosen the bench because he could hear it from there, calmly, away from the crowd that listened right next to the walls of the building, under the window. For fifteen minutes, as he sketched the crowd under the window, the sound of the violin kept reaching Simon, while he tried to restrain the feelings that came along with it. After that first day, he has sat in the same bench every single saturday, drawing, with the hope of listening to it again, but the window has never opened again. 

Today is no different. He is painting the tree that was recently planted in front of him, seemingly with the purpose of hiding the window from his view, when the door of the mansion opens. Two people leave it: a man in his early fifties, dressed all elegant and with a smiling neutral face, and a boy the age of Simon, more or less.

It’s him.

He knows, because he is leaving the mansion, carrying a violin with him, but there is something else. He looks serious, tall, elegant, and so sad… They cross the road, and pass by Simon’s bench; most of his drawings are on display. The man ignores them, but the boy stops by and looks at them. Simon stops drawing, leaves the pencil aside, and looks at the boy’s reaction while looking at his paintings. Something about his eyes, or maybe his expression, tells him that the rich boy likes the paintings. More specifically, the one with a bouquet of white and red roses. Simon keeps looking at him for the eternity that he stays looking at it.

“Take it” Simon says finally. The boy looks at Simon, and then back at the canvas. It is clear that he cannot afford to give his paintings away just like that. “Take it. Please”

“How much?” He answers.

_ Your smile  _ Simon wants to say.  _ Your music. A date. _ “Just take it”

“How much?” He repeats.

“Play for me” Simon says, pointing at the violin.

“No”.

“Baz! We are in a hurry!” His father is calling. So he takes his wallet, grabs twice the money Simon would have asked for in the best of his dreams, takes the painting and goes back to the house. He leaves again a few seconds later, and runs to meet his father.

_ Baz. _

Simon stays in the bench, with the money in his hand, feeling like an idiot with a way too big mouth for the rest of the week.

 

One week later, Simon goes back to the bench. He sits, displays his art the usual way, and draws again. A hand holding a rose, and a violin bow. He’s calmly drawing when he hears a sound: a violin. He stands up, goes around the tree and looks at the window. It is open. For a few minutes, he can only hear the sound of the strings being tuned, but then the song begins. A song people crowd under the window to listen to, that makes Simon feel sad, emotional, and somehow also happy, as he goes back to the bench in order to keep drawing.


	11. Day 11: Catching a cold

**PENNY**

Simon has no talent to deal with sick people. I feel like shit; my head hurts and I think I have fever, but he is still there, looking around like a lost dog, waiting for a miracle to happen or something, while I lay in his bed, completely covered with blankets, and still chewing my hate for Trixie and her girlfriend, and how they are too noisy for me to be a nice, calm patient waiting for the cold to be over.

The door opens and Baz appears; he looks at me, lying on Simon’s bed, and he looks at Simon, sitting on his bed.

“Snow. Get out from there. And explain” he tells Simon.

“She has a cold, but still doesn’t want to go to the infirmary because…”

“Because the nurse hates me” I say. “And in my room, Trixie is all lovey-dovey with…”

“Yeah, I get it” Baz interrupts. “Just leave my bed alone”.

“Baz, do you know how to know if someone has a fever?”

Baz looks at Simon as if he were stupid. Well, he definitely is.

“You touch her forehead, and if it’s hot, there’s fever”.

Simon obeys.

“She’s definitely sick. What do we do next?” “Crowley, Snow, have you never been sick? Learn by watching!” “That’s difficult in an orphanage”.

“Anyways, step back”. Baz has lost his patience. He rolls up his sleeves and comes beside me and takes some blankets away. “Now, go get a towel, wet it with cold water, and bring it”. Simon leaves the room silently.

“Tell me if you’re cold or hot” he tells me. I nod. “This is what my stepmother does with my siblings, so I guess it will work…” Simon comes back with the towel dripping water all around the room. Baz does not complain: he wrings it and puts it on my forehead.

“Your hands are ice cold” I say.

“That’s your fever” he answers. “Are you hungry?” He asks.

I nod. “I didn’t eat since yesterday”.

Baz leaves the room.

“He’s good” I say.

“Sorry” Simon is still sat on Baz’s bed, just staring at him as he works. “I really don’t know how to manage this”.

Baz comes back with a bowl with soup and a spoon, and gives it to Simon. “Feed her. And be careful, please”. At least he does that right.

“Didn’t you learn at the orphanage?”

“The infirmary there was isolated, because of contagious stuff. I never learnt. And sometimes they didn’t even take care of us; one of them, she was young, and strict, and she thought that by giving us lollipops and some general medicine, we would get cured. And there was another that was always angry, so we were scared of getting sick…”

Baz takes the towel of my forehead and changes it with a fresh one.

“And Penny couldn’t have given you instructions?”

“My mom solves it with magic. And I’m not letting him use magic on me; specially when I’m defenseless”.

“How about you, Baz? Are you the perfect nurse or something?”

“I think I’ve made it clear that I’m better than you. But yeah, my mother also used magic for this kind of stuff. But the spells are complex and Daphne likes non-magical methods better. She hasn’t taught me how to cure with magic yet, so…”

“How are you so narcissist?”

“It’s not me that can’t google how to take care of a person with a cold”

“Of course I can’t. We are not allowed to have phones in school”

“Oh? Does your friend know that?”

“Guys. I’m sick. My head hurts”. I am completely ignored. I don’t think I exist in the world where they fight each other. “Guys” I try again. They are now spitting cheap insults at each other. I knew this couldn’t be a good idea.

Simon is about to clench his fist when I stand up, still covered by his blanket, and leave the room slamming the door. I’m not in the mood to deal with them.


	12. Day 12: Side characters

**PHILIPA**

It has been eight years. Eight years since I lost my voice, I am still not sure why, or how, and seven years since I regained it. I did not really lose my Magic: It is still there; it has been there forever, and I can feel it, but ever since that day, I have been unable to imprint it in my words; to cast a single spell; to do anything remotely magic by myself.

The doctor, a mage, said it would come back with time, but eight years are way too long, and I am not a patient person, so I have simply lost all hope.

I have been living like a Normal ever since then; I attend school, and study subjects unrelated to magic. I am fine. Sometimes I miss magic, sure, but not as much as I did at first. At first I thought that I would die; that it was impossible to live without magic. And it was, actually, pretty difficult. Getting used to do literally everything without the help of Magic was frustrating, and I didn’t understand how Normals could spend so much time of their lives doing such things as tying their shoelaces or drying their clothes.

Then my cousin, two years older than me, told me she had found out that Simon Snow had lived without Magic his whole childhood, and even after being accepted in Watford, he didn’t really use it that much. I was crazy about him by then, so it was a motivation. By the time I forgot my stupid crush with him, I had learnt how to live without magic. There is just one thing I haven’t been able to leave aside: My necklace, the one I used to need for spells.

Now I am at college, third year of chemistry, and I don’t miss magic at all.

Or maybe yes. For some things. For example, I would love to be able to spell assholes away.

I’m at the faculty cafeteria, and this guy from biochemistry class has been flirting with me nonstop for the last half an hour; seemingly unable to understand what “no, sorry, I want to be alone” means, and now he has decided he has permission to touch. More specifically, to put his disgusting hand on my thighs.

“Get away” I say. Now I am angry, as I have not been in a very long time.

“Come on, let me…”

“ **Get away from me** ”. I feel the magic filling my words, reaching him, and a spark of hope fills me for an instant. The boy gets up, rigid like a robot, and leaves the room; his face full of fear and confusion.

I cast a spell. I put magic in my words. Maybe it came back.

“As you were” I say. I wait for the boy to come back. Nothing happens, but that was expected. I try to spell the coffee stain in my blouse away, but again it doesn’t work. I sink in the chair, as the last bits of instant excitement fade away, and close my eyes. I did magic again, even if just for an instant.

I count to ten, open my eyes, get up, take my bag and leave the cafeteria. Time for next class. 


	13. Day 13: Domestic day

**BAZ**

I like coming to visit when Penny is not here. Specially when she leaves for a few days, be it to America to visit her boyfriend, or just in some kind of trip with her uni friends. Because Simon’s presence fills the house, and it reminds me of when we shared rooms in Watford. So now I am letting Simon make tea, trying not to laugh at his clumsiness and his efforts to not let his wings destroy the kitchen. I guess he will never get used to them, because it has been a year and he still cannot manage to cross the house without hitting something. I think that’s the reason why Penny decided to go for a minimalist decoration.

A whole year already.

I don’t think things could have gotten better for me, specially on everything related to Simon. We are both alive (although he’s a little more alive than me), and we don’t have to try to kill each other constantly, although I must say that we didn’t try that hard before, either.

Simon brings the two mugs and we sit down, in front of each other. His tea has way too much sugar, and mine has none. He’s trying to brush away the water stain on his shirt, until he gives up and leaves the cloth aside. I resist the temptation of spelling it away.

He never asks me to spell this kind of things, ever since he lost his power. I am still not sure whether it’s because he is ashamed (He still sometimes says he is a failure of a mage), or sad, or it simply hurts too much. Maybe it’s the three of them; after all, magic was, and is, in his own words, his “favorite thing”.

He talks to me about his day; about the friends in uni, and also about the therapy. It is nice to hear him talk without the fear of a dragon or a chimera coming in order to kill him; knowing that we can just live a future none of us could imagine a year ago. Just a year ago.

“What do you want to do this afternoon?” I ask.

“Don’t you have to study?”

“I managed to leave today free, just for you”. Sometimes Penny complains that she would never expect me to be this cheesy. I wouldn’t either. I guess I still am way too happy. I guess I still don’t believe it.

“Let’s go for a walk”. Simon drinks his tea all at once, and while I finish mine, way more slowly, he runs to wash his mug, take his coat (I have to spell the weird bulge on his back), and bring mine.

We walk through the park, holding hands and walking slow. There are many people; some other pairs as well, and a lot of kids. Some of them are walking around, while some others seem to be just getting a shortcut through the park in order to arrive at the train station. As he talks about people around him (about how this one man in a suit is an artist who had to run away from home and the woman with the two kids is the mistress of a mobster), there is a single thought that stays fixed in my head.

It’s so easy to get used to happiness.


	14. Day 14: Disney/Fairytale retelling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORA HERE!
> 
> Yes, of course I had to keep going with the Beauty and the Beast!AU, so here you are; a songfic for the song Evermore.

_ I was the one who had it all _ _   
_ _ I was the master of my fate _ _   
_ _ I never needed anybody in my life _ _   
_ __ I learned the truth too late

I guess sometimes I did feel regret. It is not like I thought it was my fault… Not all of it, at least. I should not have treated Agatha that way, I am sure of that. And I should have not prioritized my stupid romantic dreams over my kingdom, or that is what I thought at first. I am not sure yet. But the punishment was too much.

_ I'll never shake away the pain _ _   
_ _ I close my eyes but she's still there _ _   
_ _ I let her steal into my melancholy heart _ _   
_ __ It's more than I can bear

It did not really matter whether the punishment was too much or not, because he came. And that is fine. But then he tried to leave. Twice. I guess that’s fine too, or at least natural. I saved his life the first time, and for the second time… Well, he hasn’t come back yet. He probably won’t ever.

_ Now I know she'll never leave me _ _   
_ _ Even as she runs away _

It has been a week. One week and suddenly the castle is emptier, wider, darker and lonelier than it has been in a hundred years.

_ She will still torment me _ _   
_ _ Calm me, hurt me _ _   
_ __ Move me, come what may

I guess I actually miss him. We danced the last night, and it was nice. I played the violin. He was smiling, and he looked at me, and there was no fear. Not within me, at least, and I think for a moment, I allowed myself to believe that he would break the curse. That I would be free.

_ Wasting in my lonely tower _ _   
_ _ Waiting by an open door _ _   
_ _ I'll fool myself, she'll walk right in _ _   
_ __ And be with me for evermore

Then he asked to leave. He asked to visit his father. I cannot say no; keeping him here would only make things worse, and as lame as it is, as frustrating, as desperating, I let him go. And even as he was leaving, he promised he would come back, so I hung onto that promise, and waited. He has not come back.

_ I rage against the trials of love _ _   
_ _ I curse the fating of the light _ _   
_ _ Though she's already flown so far beyond my reach _ _   
_ __ She's never out of sight

Is this supposed to be enough? Am I supposed to be happy with the idea that he opened to me? Even if he’s not here anymore, am I supposed to feel satisfied?

_ Now I know she'll never leave me _ _   
_ _ Even as she fades from view _ _   
_ _ She will still inspire me _ _   
_ __ Be a part of everything I do

There are too many things I miss about him. About his smile, bright enough to light the whole castle. About his skin, that changes the color when the sun touches it. About blue eyes and bronze curls. About his humor, his laugh, his clumsiness, and about how nice he is with everyone, including me. About his efforts training with the sword, and his concentration reading a book. About the way he looks at me while I play the violin, and it’s about the beating of his heart and the heat of his skin. About him being alive, or maybe about him just being him.

_ Wasting in my lonely tower _ _   
_ _ Waiting by an open door _

He promised he would come back someday, so I should wait for him right? I have no other choice, I guess.

_   
_ _ I'll fool myself, she'll walk right in _

He will come back, because he told me he would.

_ And as the long, long nights begin _

So meanwhile I just have to stay here, and wait, as I am supposed to do. As I have been doing for the last hundred years.

_ I'll think of all that might have been _

Then why is it suddenly so hard?

_ Waiting here for evermore _


	15. Day 15: Pets/animals

Baz loves cats. I can notice it; Penny can notice it; practically anyone can notice it. Maybe the most obvious reason is the absurd number of cat-related channels he follows on YouTube, or the likes in every cat post on Instagram, Facebook and the rest of his social media. But I guess that’s kind of normal; who doesn’t love cat videos and photos?

There are other parts of it: he stops to look at every stray cat when we go for walks, and also talks about how cool it would be having a cat. And then there is how he treats cats: other people’s cats, abandoned cats. He knows how to approach them. He will sit near them, lay his hand on the floor, and wait. Most of the time, cats will walk around, maybe deciding whether he’s a threat. The first time I interrupted the ritual (we were in third grade), he almost cut the hand I used to try and pet it. I got a scratch by the cat instead.

When they decide he’s not a problem, they go near him and stay forever. It is nearly impossible to have a cat go away once Baz has made friends with him, which happens all the time. He simply understands them. Maybe it’s about the traits they share: the elegance on their movements; their initial indifference towards things and people they love; the long way they have to go in order to trust someone; their loyalty once they do so.

I once asked him about having a cat. He practically lives in our apartment, so it would be almost his. He told me it would not be a good idea. I insisted, asking where did all that love towards cats came from; maybe I was a little jealous, but most of it was curiosity. Cats were the only way I had to see Baz childishly smiling and letting all his defenses down; more so during our school days, but after that as well.

He talked about the cat they had when he was a little kid; about how it would destroy the cushion and shred the curtains; he spoke about how tiring it was when it decided to sleep on his bed, and the way it would ditch the food according to the mood. He kept ranting about the disadvantages of having a cat at home, and even as he spoke, it kept seeming like it was worth it. Like that excuse was not enough. I did not ask any further.

When he told me the real reason, we were in a pet shop. I was looking at the spiders and snakes at the entrance, and he brought me to where the baby cats were, pointed at a blue-eyed siamese cat, and told me his cat was exactly like it, but way older. When he was born, it was already a grown up cat. And then he explained: he was friends with the cat. As a child, he was the only member of his family the cat would not hiss around, and he could pet it and play with it. The cat was one of the most important parts of his childhood.

When the vampires attacked the school, and he became one of them (I hate when he says “one of them”. I don’t think he is), the cat realized. It began treating him as if he were a different person; as if he were not Baz anymore, unable to recognize him. What was worse, it seemed to be waiting for something. For someone. For him.

That cat did not last much. He told me that it died naturally, with no hurry, as any old cat would do. Only completely alone, since it seemed like Baz, the human Baz, the toddler Baz, would not come back again.

So as we walked away from the shop, Baz told me that he was not willing to let another animal in his home, just because of the fear that changes would make it feel as lonely as he had felt ever since the siamese cat died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORA HERE!
> 
> Baz+Cats+Simon’s POV. What could go wrong? Oh, right, the part where instead of sleeping I write this. Please, tell me what you think ^^


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORA HERE!  
> Yes, it's Shadowhunters. And no, the idea is not completely mine. AoiHerondale helped a lot with it.

The silence is uncomfortable. It always is, in this kind of meetings: Before the negotiations begin, while everyone takes their seats silently, in a room with high ceilings and sumptuous decorations; full of runes and symbols representing both the Shadowhunters’ and the Underworld’s cultures. Baz sits still, as quiet as everybody else, hoping everything will end soon and he can go back to the training room. Alec and Jace are sitting in front of him, as always. Ever since he arrived at the New York institute, almost seven months ago, he has almost never seen Jace without Alec, though not the other way around.

From one of the corners, Raphael Santiago shoots him a glance. It is no secret that he is a vampire  _ and _ a shadowhunter. Neither it is that Santiago wants him in his team. Baz had struggled with his identity for a long time, wondering whether he should join the vampires, stay with his family or just wander around in a limbo between both.

Jace is another issue: Baz is fully convinced that he is at least a little jealous of him, just because he gets along with Alec. And that’s… Problematic, because honestly, he would rather stay as far from Jace as possible. The less problems, the better. But it is because of a werewolf that he found himself befriending Alec, and therefore implicating with Jace; more specifically, the one sitting next to Luke Garroway, that looks completely lost in the institute. Baz knows Alec is head over heels in love with Jace, and Alec knows Baz might have a crush on the werewolf. A really, really big crush. Which is clearly not normal, because, leaving aside the fact that he’s a vampire, and a shadowhunter, and both are supposed to hate werewolves, he has never talked to him, and has no intention to do so.

As the negotiations begin, the room turns into a circus. Beginning with the shadowhunters, mainly the Lightwoods. Baz does not understand how they dare call all of that a “negotiation”, since they are completely closed to any proposal that is not theirs.

Then there are the vampires: they have decided all by themselves that Baz should be somehow “donated” to their cause in exchange for accepting the Institute’s conditions, which has obviously made his father nervous and he is about to start shouting at Raphael.

Some faerie is flirting with Isabelle. So that is why she was insisting so much about attending the meeting in spite of her lack of interest.

Alec is having a really awful time, trying to stop Jace’s sharp remarks about everything the others talk about.

Sitting as far as possible from vampires, both werewolves look serious, trying to get to a conclusion with the shadowhunters about a matter of territory. Garroway is, at least. The other one, the boy, seems about to start crying, maybe because of the noise, or the anxiety, or maybe today is full moon. Baz is now shamelessly staring at him, but in the middle of the chaos, no one notices.

At some point, Garroway tells him to leave the room and he does so. Alec points at Baz and signals him to go after him.

“Dad, I’m going outside for a while”

“Watch the werewolf. I don’t like them walking around the institute”

Baz nods and leaves the room.

The werewolf is sitting on the floor, across the corridor. Baz walks towards him.

“Are you here to watch on me?”

“I’m supposed to, yeah”

“I won’t move from here, I promise. You can go back”

Baz does not move, keeps staring at him. This is not the best moment to admire the werewolf’s blue eyes, but he can hardly think of anything else.

“It’s not as if I have something to say in there” he says.

The werewolf smiles.

“My name is Simon Snow” he says. Baz keeps the comment about how ridiculous the name is.

“Basilton Pitch”

“You’re the one the vampires want” Simon says.

Baz doesn’t answer. Inside of the room, he hears the voices becoming louder. Baz wonders what he should do next. If he were Isabelle, he would seduce Snow until he voluntarily gave him his number. If he were Jace, he would ask for it without major problems. If he were Alec… He would do nothing; just admire from the distance and wonder if there would have been any possibility. But he is neither of them. He is just a way too tired vampire who does not know how to deal with feelings.

“So what if I am?”

Snow looks at him, blue eyes wide open, hurt.

“I guess it must be difficult… But as a shadowhunter, it should not be a problem, I guess”

Baz realizes he has fucked up, and probably lost any opportunity he had with him.

“I must go back” Snow mutters, as he stands up and walks through the corridor again.

“Wait!” Baz grabs his hand, and turns around. “Let me show you around”

Simon smiles in relief. He does not look like he wants to go back to that hell.

“Fine by me”


	17. Day 18: Stuck in a ... together

“And this is why you are not supposed to follow me around at night”

Simon was following me, as always. By the time I reached the first floor, I had already noticed. And maybe it was the tiredness, because I’ve been trying to avoid him three sleepless nights in a row, or just that i had run out of what little patience I had at that point, but I got really mad at him, and some teacher with insomnia heard us. Simon decided it would be a good idea to shove me into an empty classroom and close the door. The teacher saw the door half-closed, and locked it, leaving us alone, in the dark.

“I needed to prove that you’re a vampire”. I roll my eyes, but he cannot see that. After about five minutes of me trying to open the door, I sat down on the floor, at the end of the classroom. Simon sat next to me, saying he was cold.

“Snow, I leave the room every night and come back in the morning. I am paler than milk. You have never seen me eat anything ever, my skin is ice cold and my heart does not beat, which you would know if instead of following me around, you had waited for me to fall asleep to prove it. You do not need to manage to lock us up in a cupboard to prove your theories”

“How am I supposed to believe it coming from you?”

I search in the darkness for Simon’s hair, and bring his head to my chest in an abrupt gesture that probably shows all my anger. He listens silently for a while.

“Your heart doesn’t beat” he says, and hearing it in his voice, with a concerned tone, feels even worse. “Can you turn on the lights?”

“My wand is not here, Snow. I left it in the room”

“Right”

The silence spreads in the room, and I can hear Simon’s breath.

“I think this would be a good chance” I say.

“For what?”

“For you to kill me. I have no wand, I can’t run, and probably no one will come until morning”

“That would not be fair”

“I guess not”

He puts his hand over my mouth, and I shoot him a glance that will hopefully kill him.

“I want to know if you breath”

I push his hand again.

“Crowley, Snow, can’t you just ask? No, I don’t breathe, except for when I talk”. I yawn. “And also that, I guess” now that I’ve sat down, all the exhaustion has come back.

He touches my temple next, with the tip of his fingers.

“What are you doing now?” I don’t push him away this time. I just don’t feel like it.

“It’s impressive how cold you are”

“Inhumane” I say, but he does not answer. He presses the palm of his hand against my cheek, and I lean slightly towards him. No one has ever touched me like this since my mother died, but I can’t tell him that.

It keeps getting harder to keep my eyes open, especially with Simon caressing my cheek, and eventually I just give up; resting my head on his shoulder I fall asleep.


	18. Day 19: Late nights

Simon is awake, waiting for me when I arrive. I find him in his pajamas, watching an old movie on the sofa, covered by a his wings and a blanket.

“It’s not that late” he says before I can say anything. I look at the clock. It’s one in the morning.

“You’re right” I take out my coat and sit under the blanket next to him.

“What are you watching?”

“I’m not really sure…” Simon leans against my shoulder. We stare at the tv silently, until the commercials begin and he turns it off. “It wasn’t that good”

He turns so he’s facing me.

“It’s been two weeks” he says.

“I had finals” I answer.

“I missed you”. He looks tired. 

“Did you? It’s late. Maybe we should go to bed” I say.

“Are you tired?” He asks. I shake my head. “Then let’s stay up for a while”

I lean forward, and I kiss him. It has only been two weeks I have spent locked home, leaving only to go to the faculty just in order to do the exams, and then back to study; I didn’t know I would miss him this much. I have been underestimating my feelings again, and now that I’m finally here, I just want to stay up all night like this. Holding Simon, kissing him.

Simon hugs me, with both arms and wings, and the blanket falls as we lay on the sofa. I kiss all over his face, trying to cover every single mole, and just like every single time since back in the forest, I’m not sure about what to do with my hands, so I bring them to Simon’s hair as he traces my back, down to my hips.

A girl’s voice interrupts us suddenly.

“What do you guys think you’re doing at one in the damn morning?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were wondering, the girl is me.


	19. Day 21: Royalty AU

“Simon, you should go for a walk. You have been sitting here for five hours straight and the other ministers will be here in a moment”.

“So should you”.

The two men are sitting on a wide table that could easily fit twenty people for a dinner, but is now covered by tidy piles of papers and accountability books. Next to Simon, another smaller desk is also covered by papers, but that one is a mess.

“Another prestamist receipt has appeared” he says, after looking at the paper he has in his hands.

“Put it with the others”

“We are never going to end this”

Basilton gets up, stands behind Simon and strokes his shoulders. Simon leans back and closes his eyes, and his eyebags become more visible.

“But you have only been king for about three months. You will manage this”

“I didn’t know the kingdom was so broke”

“Let’s do something: we go, walk to the door of the castle; then come back, and work until the ministers come. You ask them for the reports, and then we sleep. Both of us. Be it two, or eight, or twelve hours. Whatever we need. Then we’ll see what to do with the debt, and find a solution for this mess”

Simon stands up. “You should treat me like this always”

“If I did, no one would take you seriously”

They leave the room, walking slowly. The palace is as full as always, mainly by the personnel, but also by nobles and a few politicians that have already arrived. Most of them, in order to meet the former king. Simon knows his father is still popular, and it is going to be hard to make a big change in the kingdom’s politics, because of his influence.

“Baz, do people take you seriously when you are not with me?”

“I am always with you”. Basilton talks in a low tone, as if he was telling a secret. He has been doing that since they met: whenever they are in front of other people, he frowns, and talks in a low, deep voice. _They will take us seriously this way_. At the beginning, he also did that when they were alone, because that's how things were supposed to do. That’s how his father’s right hand talked to him even when they were completely alone. But it has been five years since Basilton started working for Simon, when Simon’s father began delegating part of his work on him. Basilton had become his secretary, probably assuming that he would be charged with all the work, as the former king’s secretary had, while Simon did what every king in Europe those days did: absolutely nothing. He had assumed the charge with strong prejudices against his boss, but they had changed in no time.

Simon, on his side, was trying his best. It was tempting: leaving all the mess to Basilton and letting go of all responsibilities; living an easy life, hunting and traveling, as his father had done. It was no coincidence that his father had resigned right after his secretary died, leaving all the work for his son; and as good father as he was, and even good person, the former king had not been a good politician. He had just let everything flow; Simon was not even sure whether his father was aware of the situation of his country, and now the diplomatic, economic and social mess was Simon’s problem. He wanted to solve it, and Basilton, a boy that at first sight looked cold, boring and completely centred in efficiency, had become his main support, not only with the kingdom issues, but also morally.

“Simon!”

“Agatha, how is your day going?”

There is one thing in this world that Basilton does not understand, and weirdly enough, it is not the twisted political ways of empires: It is the relationship between Agatha and Simon. Sometimes he is almost sure that Simon just does not care about her: he does not even think of her when she is not in the palace, or in official trips with him; which is almost always, but then they meet, and Simon is affectionate with her and will listen to anything she says, as he is supposed to do. But Simon always does what he is supposed to do, exactly as himself, so maybe he should not worry: maybe it is just jealousy. Because she always stays for short periods of time, always busy with her family, at the other end of the country, and it will feel as if Simon does not even remember his wife.

Since the kings are chatting, Basilton takes a few steps back: he has nothing to do with it, and really does not care. Marriages should not be this way, though; they are supposed to back each other up, not just meet for official acts as if they were another pair of politicians, but, attending what Simon has told him, it is not as if there were many options left. And Agatha is indeed a good politician.

“Baz” Simon calls. “Maybe we should head back”

Basilton nods silently; says goodbye to Agatha and goes back to Simon’s side.

“The meeting is about to start and I want to finish off at least one more drawer” Simon says. Agatha walks away and Simon whispers: “We should have a son”

Basilton looks at him. He looks serious, tired, and overwhelmed. “Do you want him?”

Simon looks back at him. “It is what we are supposed to do”

 _It is always about what we are supposed to do_.

 

* * *

 

 

“It’s over”

“Yeah”

Simon closes the door of the dormitories as Basilton leaves all the papers of the meeting on the table. The meeting has been exhausting, for both of them. All the bigwigs still tend to talk to Basilton instead of Simon, as they used to do with the former king and Secretary; and none of them can stand that.

“They didn’t take me seriously”. Shoulders down, deep eyebags, deep sighs. Simon feels defeated.

“They did. Give them time; they will write the reports”

“You don’t know that”

“Let’s sleep. We will think of that tomorrow”

Simon is already in the bed by the time Basilton finishes taking care of everything, and he is already with his hand on the handle when Simon speaks.

“Stay?”

“Should I call Agatha?” That is another thing he does not do when they are in public: Calling the queen by her name.

“She’s probably already asleep”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORA HERE!
> 
> Please, let me rant a little: this prompt was supposed to be shorter, and to tell a lot more information, but yesterday some divine inspiration came and I wrote everything at once. Then I left to go to sleep, and when I woke up I was completely blank, up to the point where I didn't even know how to finish this scene.
> 
> Another fact: As AoiHerondale said, this looks more like the beginning of a multichapter than an actual one shot, but I'm leaving it this way, and if I find a good plot line, I might retake it.
> 
> The last thing: I'm on finals, which means I don't have time and I am kinda stressed, so I will from now until thursday skip prompts like crazy; but I will write all of them, and that's a promise. Also, I'll give my best to write all of them before the 25th, although that is definitely not a promise. Sorry that I couldn't keep track, and thank you for reading anyways.
> 
> (Also, and this is the end, it would be great to have some feedback)


	20. Day 28: Letters to Santa

They are all together, sitting in the dining room. Simon fidgets with a pen silently, with a face of full concentration. Mordelia is chattering about how many toys and books she is going to ask for this Christmas. Baz is also writing, giving every item a long thought before writing it in the list, and answering Mordelia’s occasional questions. The two younger girls are also writing on a piece of paper.  
“Do you always do this?” Asks Simon.  
“Do what?” answers the youngest.  
“This. Joining together. Writing the letters to Santa”  
“Yes. Baz always has the best ideas for presents” says Mordelia. “You write it alone? Do you even write it?”  
“I… Where I grew up, everyone just wrote theirs by themselves”  
“Boring” says one of the kids, and then goes back to coloring her drawing. “Where is that?”  
“The orphanage?”  
All of the siblings stop writing and drawing and look at Simon.  
“How is Christmas there?” Asks Mordelia. Baz looks at her worriedly. She isn’t supposed to ask that.  
“It’s boring. Like a normal day, but with a Christmas tree and sweets during dinner” Simon answers.  
“And presents?”  
“Yes, there are presents too”. The kids, satisfied with those answers, nod seriously and go back to their drawings. They all work silently for a while, until Baz folds his paper. “I’m done” he says, and disappears back into his room. Simon looks at his yet blank paper; folds it as well and follows Baz.  
“What kind of presents did you have in the orphanage?”  
“Mainly toys. We shared them. It had nothing to do with what you have here…”  
“And Santa?”  
“What?”  
Baz closes the door of the bedroom. “How old were you when you stopped believing in Santa?”  
“I don’t remember ever believing in Santa”  
“That’s sad…”  
Simon sits on the bed and Baz sits beside him.  
“I don’t think it is. When I started going to Agatha’s place, I lived it the way you guys do, and that was enough. They made me presents and there were these huge, elegant parties… It was great”  
“I always thought they were boring… Christmas parties, I mean. I’d rather spend that time just with my family…”  
“How did you find out? About Santa, I mean”  
“When my mother died… My father was so depressed… There were no presents that year. I thought it was my fault, I had behaved so bad that Santa had not come… It was… I don’t know. I didn’t understand. There was this boy at the nursery school. He hitted other children, and broke our toys, but he still had had presents, and I had not…” Baz stops talking for a moment, and Simon hugs him. “When I told aunt Fiona, she got angry at my father. I guess that’s when I found out”  
Baz takes his letter, and Simon’s, and opens both. “Yours is empty” he says.  
“Of course it is. What do you want me to ask for? A house? I have that. A friend, I’ve got a bunch. A cute boyfriend? Also covered. What else do I need?”  
Baz smiles and kisses him. “I think Fiona already bought us presents, anyways… And Daphne also had an idea”  
“Tell them there is no need”  
“They already know that”  
“And what do you want for Christmas?”  
“It’s a secret…”  
“Tell me…”  
Baz kisses Simon again. “I won’t”. Simon kisses back, tries to reach the letter and giggles.  
Mordelia bangs the room open. “Time for dinner. And give the letters to dad” she says. Baz stands up.  
“Maybe next time” he tells Simon, and runs away with the paper in his hand. Simon speeds behind him, laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORA HERE!
> 
> I'm back and ready to finish these. Again, AoiHerondale had a lot to say about the plot in this fic, so credits to her.


	21. Day 29: Christmas presents

Baz was ready for his second semester at Watford, and almost every part of it. He was willing to take classes again, play football, learn and practice magic… Except for one person.

He opened the door with his eyes closed and his fingers crossed, hoping the room would be empty and he would not have to face his roommate after the talk Aunt Fiona had given him, about how his destiny was to kill the Chosen One and a thousand ideas about how to do so.

A loud noise broke all of his hopes, as Simon jumped out of his bed and ran towards him.

“Baz! I’ve been waiting for you,” he said.

“What for?”

Simon looked at his bag, then at the big box on his bed, and back at Baz.

“Maybe you should take care of your luggage first.”

Baz sighed, and emptied the bag. He had brought home almost no luggage for Christmas, so it did not take long. Simon stared at him during the whole process.

“I am done. Now what?” He would be lying if he said he was not dying out of curiosity.

Simon pointed at the opposite side of his bed, and Baz resignedly sat. Simon placed the box between both of them.

“Look at what Penny gave me for Christmas.” It was a big box, with a nice pattern and a red bow. Simon untied the bow and opened the box. Baz’s eyes went wide.

It was full of candies, biscuits, chocolates and any kind of sweet Baz could think of in that moment. And, out of place, in the middle, there was a box with six scones that Baz would bet anything were cherry flavored.

Baz looked at Simon. He was looking at him with his eyes full of expectation.

“What do you want, Snow? To show off? Congrats.”

Simon grabbed the scones and pushed the box towards Baz.

“I wanted to share with you…”

Baz blushed, feeling guilty in a way. He checked the content in the box, and pointed at one of the chocolates. “Can I take it?”

Simon nodded, and Baz could not help but smile at his excitement for such a small gesture of acceptance. “Thank you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a day late... But here it is. And there are some more written which must be reviewed, so hopefully soon enough I will finish this. Ideally, before 2018 begins. Speaking of which, Merry Christmas everyone!! Or happy holidays in general. I hope you have a great time.


	22. Day 17: WLW

FIONA

I have kept this a secret from everyone. No one, not even Natasha knew about this, and truth to be told, I thought it would be like this until the day I died. Mainly, because it’s not my secret, or at least not only my secret. Baz, leave the questions for later. Same goes for you, Simon. Please, don’t tell anyone. I trust you about this. You guys know that it’s common to have exchange students from Europe in Watford, because of this obsession about learning English, and Watford being… Well, the only Magic school in England. Well, when I was in fifth grade, a new student came into my class. Her name was Adela, and she had come to live in Watford until… Just for a few months, really. An exchange. She spoke awful English and her parents were desperately hoping she would learn. She didn’t, pero yo aprendí español 1 . The thing is, in Spain there is a spell. It is one of the strongest spells I have ever known. Short-term effect. It took me a really long time to learn it, mainly because at first I didn’t get the true meaning of the expression. It is the ‘No hay huevos’ one. It literally means ‘there are no eggs’ (they call the balls eggs), but in Spain they use it… Yes, Simon, I was about to tell you. It compels you to do literally anything the other person wants, like an imperative spell… But this one is even more effective, because it convinces. You become absolutely brave, and willing to do whatever the person who spelt it says. Funny  part is, the dumbest the thing you ask for, the better it works. No, Basil, she did not spell me to go out with her; I would remember. It only works when saying it straight to the face, and if you understand it… I went out with her so that she could teach me the spell. We used it to make everyone in third course pass the Spanish lesson. Sounds like I felt pushed to it, but I think those were the best six months in my life. We were together wherever we would go; I got to sleep in her room, since she was alone, and I think I did not step in a single classroom the whole semester. We had so much fun with that spell… It seems in Spain there is a strong regulation about it, where you cannot use it against authorities and there is a limit to what you can ask for, but in England… Well, we could do whatever we want, and we did… I think I almost got expelled. We need a spell like that in English. But there were other things about her time here, it was… I think it was the best relationship I ever had, because she knew how to be sweet and cute and I had a really bad time when she left… No, I haven’t dated a woman ever since then. I don’t think I could at this point of my life. Don’t insist. It was about her. We were talking about Adela. All of this, I wanted to tell you because it was a secret I was scared to tell. She asked me not to, because of I don’t know what reaction within his family, so that’s why I didn’t ever tell anyone… But I think you two is fine. Yeah, that’s really all I had to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORA HERE!
> 
> 1\. But I learnt Spanish


	23. Day 20: On a trip/adventure

“Baz? You can’t sleep?” I turn around. Snow is behind me, rubbing his eyes. We are at an inn, the kind of place where there are rooms with bunk beds for twenty or thirty people, and of course I could not sleep. Not with all of my classmates in the same room, pulse beating, blood running; and me being permanently thirsty. I guess the easiest way would have been not coming, but I am here, and now, maybe by all the walking around that I have been doing, I woke Simon up.

I don’t even have the energy to be rude to him.

“No… Do you?”

“I’m not sure. I think I had a nightmare… Let’s make a truce tonight.”

“Fine,” I say.

“It was a nice day today.”

“It was, indeed… I didn’t know forests could be that interesting, especially from the point of view of no magic people…”

“The guide didn’t get to see the fairy playing with the bee… She doesn’t look like she likes humans.”

“No fairy likes humans, Snow.”

“That’s a shame.” For a few seconds, we stay in an uncomfortable silence, until Simon speaks again. “Did you have a nightmare as well?”

I shake my head before thinking of a believable excuse.

“I’m used to sleeping alone, or just with one other person. Sleeping with so many people in a room is too noisy for me.” Simon looks at me as if I had just said that the Earth is flat.

He sits on the floor, and hugs his knees. The corridor is too narrow to sit in front of him, so I move a little to the left and sit down as well.

“Last summer I stayed at an orphanage where walls were paper thin, so I guess in the end you can get used to it.”

“Do you stay in an orphanage during summers?”

“You didn’t know? I do… The Mage insist on it being necessary, so… But I don’t mind. The food was not bad.”

“What’s the point of you being his heir if you can’t spend your summer together?” I say. I’m not sure about why it makes me so angry; maybe it’s the unfairness. It doesn’t feel like Simon is the Mage’s son, or his heir, or whatever. He looks more like his dog, just going around doing everything he asks him to, but then spending his summer in an orphanage.

“It’s fine… I stay in Watford during the school year and that itself is more than I thought I would ever have.”

“Even with these school trips where you have to sleep with way too many people and are completely unable to get a minute free and have a lack of sleep and everyone giggles and laughs even though you are, more than anything, alert?”

“Why would I be alert here? It would be a dirty play, and you don’t do that.”

 _You’re right_ , I think.

“There’s a saying” I say instead. “That in love, as well as in war, everything is fair.”  _And both of them are involved in our relationship_.

“Are you going to try to kill me during this trip?” He asks. Something similar to a smirk tries to make its way to my face.

“No.”

“I knew. Me neither. What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“I think we will do something Magic-related. I don’t like it when the teachers organize surprise activities.”

“Well, I think it will be fun!” replies Simon. So likely of him.

“You’ll fall asleep in the middle of it if you don’t go to sleep.”

“So will you!”

 _Thanks to you, I’m used to stay awake_ , I think.

“Let’s go to sleep then.”

Simon nods, stands up and offers me his hand. I take a moment to consider whether the coldness in the corridor will justify my frozen hand and then grab his hand. We enter the room together and the moment I get in my bed, I hear Simon’s snore.

_Good night._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORA HERE!
> 
> *Keeps writing as if the event hadn't finished a week ago* I don't even post these on tumblr anymore. But there are only a few prompts left, so let's finish this!


	24. Day 22: Opposite day.

**SIMON**

I wake up in a bed that’s definitely not mine. Way too big, way too soft. No light entering the room through broken blinds. I search for the switch but it’s not next to the bed, so I get up and after stumbling with two or three pieces of furniture and walking way too much for the room I am used to, I find the door and a switch next to it. I turn it on, and find that I am in a room that is at least three times as big as mine; and way more scary. The bed is huge; the sofa I stumbled with is huge. The closet is huge as well; I could fit fifty times my clothes in there. And there are gargoyles decorating everything. Just like the ones in  _ The Hunchback of Notre Dame _ , but these don’t look friendly at all.

I leave the room and find an also unknown corridor, where two children are chasing each other from one room to another.

“Baz! Good morning!” Says one of them. Wait a minute. Baz is here? I search through the doors until I find a bathroom, and look at myself in the mirror. Or at least try.There’s nothing but the reflection of the shower. I look at my hands, pale and completely free from moles, and try to touch my hair. Straight and silky. So I am Baz. Someone or something has spelt me into Baz’s body, so he’s probably now in the orphanage.

Now that I have kind of sorted out what I am doing here, I look at the mirror again, and try to move around. Change angles. No results: I cannot see anyone in it. I bring Baz’s hand (¿or mine?) to his chest, but I can’t find the pulse. So he really is a vampire. I knew it.

I wander around the house trying to find the rest of the family, and find most of them having breakfast in the dining room. There is a man, his father I guess. And a woman. I don’t know who she is. The two girls from before are there as well.

“Morning, Baz.” It takes me a while to realize the woman is talking to me. “Did you sleep well?” Her tone is nice and she looks sincerely interested.

“Morning,” I answer. At the sight of the food, something inside my mouth pokes my lips. Fangs, I guess, since he’s a vampire. “I’m meeting some friends today, so I’ll be outside.” I run back to the room, take the first shirt and trousers I see and leave the house, planning to spend the day away from the house, where no one can realize that I’m not Baz.

  
  


**BAZ**

I don’t know where I am, and I don’t like it. The light coming from the windows has woke me up way too soon, and this bed is too hard. I try to roll, but I fall to the floor. So it’s also small. I hear an unknown voice.

“Simon, go back to sleep. The alarm hasn’t gone off.”

I only know one Simon, and he’s the last person I would like to meet now. I go back to the bed, lay facing the ceiling, and realise that I’ve been unconsciously breathing for a while. As my eyes get used to the light (which is also weird, since vampires have sharper senses), I find that I am in a very small room with one more bed apart from mine, but they are too close to each other, and the person sleeping in the other room is definitely not Simon. Because Simon does not sleep with his arms and legs spread on all of the bed, or with his mouth closed. And he is not as dark skinned as this guy is. There is also a closet, and a table with two chairs. Clothes spread around half the room (the half where my bed is), and almost nothing else.

So I am alive, and in a bedroom that is not mine. I don’t know what’s happening and I’m not sure if I want to know.

I stay still, waiting, until the mentioned alarm rings and then I get up as fast as I can, then open the closet. Half the shelves are filled with perfectly tidy piles of books, clothes and other things and the other half have just a bunch of objects shoved in. I assume that’s my part, and take the first few clothes I can find. I think I can see what’s happening here.

I leave the room, and follow a flood of boys of different ages towards the bathroom. When I look in the mirror, I find Simon Snow looking back at me.

“Aleister Crowley!” The boy next to me looks at me.

“Sorry” I mutter. Next thing is, we are in the dining room, and there are girls as well here. I sit in one of the empty tables, next to Snow’s roommate. Food is brought, and Snow’s stomach growls. I hide my hand with my mouth, expecting the fangs’ reaction, but of course there is no such thing, so I take a biscuit, and wonder if Snow can notice it, wherever he is. Probably at my home. It feels weird to eat in front of people after so many years, and although Snow usually eats as much as possible, I am not really that hungry.

One of the people serving the food, a woman in her mid-forties, approaches me.

“Simon, are you alright? You ate almost nothing.”

“I… I don’t feel well. My head hurts a little.”

“Go to your room and rest until lunch time.”

I nod, and leave the room. It takes me ten minutes of opening door after door until I find Snow’s. I look around. Nothing in here tells me it’s Snow’s, apart from the messiness. I still wonder why the Mage sends him here instead than letting him stay for the summer with him, although thinking that right now I could be in his office, it makes a lot of sense. I search through the table; there are pens, a phone charger, a laptop and a book from a public library. None of them are Snow’s, for sure. I take the book, trying to leave pity aside, and lie in the bed (Snow’s bed, which I didn’t even do). It’s hot in here, and there don’t seem to be fans in here. I guess I’ll have to wait like this until I return to my body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORA HERE!  
> Uhm… This one probably needs a second part. Maybe. One day. I’ll write the afternoon, and Simon going back home and Baz having to confront his roommate for the night. But not today.


	25. Day 24: Stars

Simon sits on the bench, shoulders down. He wonders, for the thousandth time that day, what is he doing there: dressed as a giant chicken, running errands for the hosts of some idols program he would never even watch. It’s Agatha’s fault, supposedly. She used him for years, as a sort of maid, and Simon has decided to take revenge. He will. He will become more famous than the top English singer in the entertainment industry, Agatha Wellbelove, and he’ll prove that he’s worth way more than he thought.

A dark figure dressed in black sits next to him. Simon looks through the chicken’s eye holes and he sees Basilton “Baz” Pitch, England’s most popular actor, and the main obstacle in his career. He somehow looks down, and it’s the first time Simon sees him this way. He usually floods self-esteem and security.

“Are you alright?” He asks.

Baz looks at Simon, but he doesn’t seem to have recognized him.

“I’m not sure” he says. Simon is surprised. He was expecting a confident yes, or just some excuse to leave the room. “It feels like the whole world around me knows something that I don’t.”

Simon waits, expecting him to keep talking, until it is made clear that he won’t.

“Is it about a girl?” He asks. Baz stares at the chicken, wondering if seeing through him is really that easy.

“Let’s say yes?” He answers finally. It’s not as if he could leave the closet so easily in front of a giant chicken.

_ So it’s about a boy _ thinks Simon.

“I’m not even sure if she’s worth the effort; they seem so… Clumsy. Her drive to get into the entertainment industry isn’t even worth a second thought.”

“Maybe you should give her a chance” says Simon.

“A chance to what? She enervates me. She’s way too innocent, and childish, but then she has a willpower that brings her anywhere she wants. It’s admirable, but she doesn’t have the right mentality. But then there is my manager, Penelope. She insists that I should help her, and the President. I think he’s hoping that she will help me overcome…” Baz makes a pause. For a moment, Simon fears that Baz might think confessing his deepest thoughts to a chicken is not the best of the ideas, but then he talks again. “He hopes she will help me overcome my problems, and if he thinks that, he should be right. But still… She’s wrong. I wish she could see that.”

Penelope, Baz’s manager, appears through the corridor.

“The show is about to start. Let’s go.” Baz gets up, and turns around to face the chicken. “Thank you.”

Simon, inside of the chicken, smiles; gets up and makes some dumb pose. “No problem!” As he sees Baz walking away, he feels something in his chest and wonders if it might be envy for that person, good enough to stay in England’s best actor’s mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORA HERE!
> 
> Uhm, I have a thing here: Baz is not completely Baz, but a fusion between Tsuruga Ren and Baz for this scene, and Simon isn’t completely Simon, either. He has taken a few traits from Mogami Kyoko. But here it is, the Skip Beat! AU no one asked for, but I need in my life. Just to rant a little: the Mage would be Simon's father who abandoned him with the Wellbelove family, and I would leave the president as he is (or maybe let Fiona play the President. It suits her).
> 
> The idea comes from Ninanineto, although this is probably not what she (you?) had in mind while telling me.


	26. Day 23: Cooking/baking

“Penny, I’m going to get married, not to go live in a desert island.”

“Baz doesn’t like to cook.”

“I know. But he knows how to do it, and I really think it’s fine.”

“I can perfectly see that he will take care of cleaning, so the least you can do is learn how to cook decently.”

“I cook just fine.”

“Yeah, tell that to Baz.”

“Okay, then. How long should this be in the oven?”

“Fifteen minutes. Assuming that you wrapped the fish correctly.”

“I did as you told me.”

“Great, then. We only have to wait. So, how are you? Regarding the wedding.”

“I’m nervous, I guess. I should be nervous, right?”

“Maybe… But you should stop doing that. Being what you should be. It’s been four years.”

“Three and a half. And it’s easier said than done.”

“Whatever. You’re improving.”

“I’m not nervous. Baz is preparing everything, and he and Daphne make the big decisions. I only asked for you to be the groomsmaid.”

“Isn’t that a little unfair?”

“It’s not. Baz is doing a great job, he even asked for cherry scones for dessert. I can’t see the difference between roses and irises, or between one waltz or another. And he asks me for the important things.”

“Such as?”

“The meat, and my suit.”

“Yes… We had fun with that.”

“So, in general, I think it’s fine. Is dinner ready?”

“I think yes. Take a look.”

“Yes, I think it’s ready. I’ll turn the oven off and then take it out.”

“Great. You’ll see, this is the best dinner you’re going to eat until your wedding day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORA HERE!
> 
> I know there are about four prompts left, but I'm tired and at this point it feels like a burden, so I'm leaving it here, at least for the moment. Thank you to everyone who has read until here; to AoiHerondale because she beta read everything despite of the way too fast rythm of writing and to Ninanineto, who has been reading them and leaving awesome comments, even when there were exams and serious business to take care of. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did, since it's been the longest project I've ever written. And happy 2018!!


End file.
